


The Imperial Job

by Nightheart



Category: Orconomics, The Dark Profit
Genre: Caper Fic, Gen, Spoiler for one of the big plot reveals in the book, Took some liberties with the world, go and read it now, if you haven't read the book, seriously, then come back
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-06 18:07:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14062482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightheart/pseuds/Nightheart
Summary: While Jynn Ur'Gored would have hesitated noticeably to say that he was "part of the team" on this insane hay-ride across the Freedlands, there was one matter in particular with which his goals aligned nicely with the rest of the party... that matter being the desire to thwart Detarr Ur'Mayan from attaining his goals (supposedly as part of a lager over-arcing plan to thwart the Heroes Guild and all of their backers from attaining theirs). Now he's found a way to do just that, but it involves infiltrating High Society in the Southern Empire and cracking an impenetrable safe just to start with. They have a narrow window of opportunity and the only way out is through... so they'll do it like the Imperial job.





	1. Do you have anything else you'd like to tell us Jynn?

Jynn looked down at the inventory list that they'd _ahem_ "liberated" from the agent known as The Mask with a sinking heart.

_:I really should have guessed that when the Library of Whispers left off sending parties of adventurers out to find the Occullarum, which is as much a suicide mission as being drafted into the Seven Heroes, that they'd decided to pursue other methods of unlocking its mysteries. All the items on this list point to the Observatory as being their primary target, so it looks like old Lycaelon isn't the only one to have figured out the Eye of the Beholder. No doubt Detarr Ur'Mayan's after it as well, which means that the Southern Empire is about to become a very popular place indeed, which also means that if we're going to beat out the Adventurer's Guild and Detarr Ur'Mayan for their prize, we'd better get moving. Unfortunately, that also means that I can't afford to put off talking with Gorm Ingerson. Best I can hope is that the stories about the bad tempers of Berzerkers are all exaggerations.:_

Jynn had a rather good idea right at the moment of what it was that their shadowy nemesis was after and thus, had a rather good idea of what the next target was going to be. He also knew where said target was to be found and, he knew of a way that they might get hold of it... the problem was that his plan was going to bring him into close contact with _another_ piece of his past he would just as soon have forgotten. He'd spent the last three days quietly and frantically brooding over a way to get out of going that route, but sadly he had been unable to think of a viable alternative to having to discuss certain other details of his past that he didn't discuss in general.

_:No help for it though, I suppose,:_ Jynn thought to himself. _:I can't in good conscience not say anything about this, especially since I'm all but certain that my F-- er, that Detarr ur'Mayan intends to go and take it for his own work, whatever that work of his is. There's always a chance that Gorm will say no to my little plan.:_

He was hoping the redoubtable dwarf would nix the whole idea as a bad affair all around, but, realistically speaking, didn't honestly expect it. With the way his luck had been running ever since he'd been dragooned into the Seven Heroes, the likelihood of his having to face yet _another_ unpleasant era in his past he'd thought he'd managed to bury was beginning to look par for the course.

_:No harm in holding it off as long as possible however.:_

Jynn was resolved to wait until after dinner had been served and put away. It was the quiet rogue Gaist who had cooked that evening. The meal had been on the polite side of edible, especially for being cooked over an open fire. When Gorm cooked, it was nothing but meat, half burned and half raw and almost all inedible. When Laruna cooked it was all burned. Kaitha the Elven Princess, despite being an adventurer of some note, was a such a terrible cook that Jynn had taken to watching the food carefully while she took her tun to cook just to make certain that she didn't summon a demon by accident. He and the bard, Heraldin Stummonds, were apparently the only two among the party who had the least notion of what seasonings were for.

His portion of the chore wheel had him cleaning up that evening, and Jynn took the opportunity to once again review his meager options and try to think of another way around things that would not have him risking his life with a further confession about certain other less than savory aspects of his past to the leader of their party. He scrubbed dishes and turned the problem over and over in his mind as he had been doing the last three days, desperately seeking a new angle, but alas, as with the previous three evenings, nothing came to him. His despairing ponderings were interrupted by the other mage in the party.

"Behold, the mighty arch-mage, scrubbing pots like a mere peasant," Laruna said as she deposited her dirty dishes on the pile for him to wash (dishes she had _not_ politely scraped off into the fire nor turned to ash before she'd given to him to clean!).

Before he had come on this particular adventure, Jynn had thought that his days of doing manual scutt-work had ended. He'd reached a position on the University of Magical Studies paid staff that had secured him one of the finer suites in the free housing offered to University professors on campus. His well-furnished and comfortable flat had come complete with a small staff to attend to the mundane chores and see to his comforts. It was another thing he'd given up when Niln had shown up to drag him off on an adventure he'd really wanted no part in.

"Good evening Master Trullon," Jynn said, turning his face and voice into a mask of absolute politeness. "How fares the translation of that scroll you and Lady Kaitha were working on?"

Since it appeared that she was determined to be snippy with him, he'd taken to treating her with absolute correctness, tone always perfectly polite, even calling her Master Trullon, ostensibly acknowledging her attainment of rank in the most saccharine tones possible... he knew it was slowly driving her crazy. She was the one who'd decided on their little war to start with, and he had no idea why she was continuing it now. He'd rather thought that they'd come to an accord during their travels, but it seemed that her knowledge of his origins, and his very sensible resolution to take the secret of said origins to his grave, had reawakened her previous desire to quarrel with him.

She'd taken the offensive and tried to get under his skin with "subtle" digs, but her idea of subtlety was like a bull in a porcelain shop compared to the sorts of people that Jynn was accustomed to swallowing insults from.

_:If one wants a real lesson in subtlety, she'd be better advised to visit the Southern Court, or attend a Salon held by a Noted Professor. Personally, I'd rather swim with a kraken for at least my reputation would survive intact!:_ he thought with a small trace of amusement.

Jynn had weathered University politics among the upper echelons of power, as well as actual politics in the Court of the Southern Empire, Laruna had lifetimes to go before she even came close to approaching that level of classy insult. Armed with this he could look upon her little digs more as an amusement than something hurtful, but he couldn't deny deep down that they did sting.

_:Can't be helped,:_ he thought with an internal shrug. _:It was inevitable that this was what would happen as soon as anyone found out the truth of my origins. Best I can do is weather it until all of this blows over and we go our separate ways.:_

He'd decided that the best way to respond to her continued digs at him was to not respond at all. Thus, at every turn she was met with agreeable indifference and an indulgent "pat her on the head and shoo her off to bed" sort of attitude that never failed to ignite her temper. The best part was that she couldn't complain about it! The rest of the team would ask why she was angry that he was being polite. He had moved the battlefield such that the one who lost control of their temper first was perceived as clearly having lost the fight, thus in the little war she had decided that they should have, Jynn was always the winner for Laruna had a short fuse on even a good day. It was a counter- bullying tactic he had used as an apprentice against those who had thought that they might bully him into doing all of their work for them and giving him whatever few possessions he'd owned. Jynn wasn't proud of it, but if she was going to continue to fight with him, he wasn't willing to loose ground. Still, he missed what they had once been, but he couldn't see any way to getting it back so... he shook his head, best not to brood on it. He had other things he should be brooding over, like how not to get killed by Gorm when he made his confession.

"You know perfectly well how it has went," she said bitingly. "As you've been _no_ help whatsoever on getting it translated."

"As I recall, Master Trullon, I have been expressly forbidden from interfering in your research," he replied with a smile, still scrubbing away.

He had offered his services as a translator when they had first divided up the information, but Laruna had flatly rejected his offer for unknown reasons. Furthermore, she had made herself abundantly clear that his assistance was neither looked for nor welcome, and since she was so determined to be unpleasant about it, Jynn had bowed out in an overly gracious manner that had left her in a snit for the rest of that evening.

"And far be it from me to intercede where I am not wanted," he continued, setting aside his clean pot and taking her dish. "I assume then, that you and your research partner have made excellent progress in your study of Second Era Runic then?"

"How did you know it was Second Era?!" she demanded.

"Simple," he replied. "The runic symbols you've been studying employ the modified thorn symbol. The First era and predynastic eras, use the thorn symbol but it is a line with a jut on the bottom and top edges. By the second era that symbol had been modified to more closely resemble a right-pointing triangle. That in addition to the way the runic was placed along an inward-spiral as opposed to an interlocked one, which was what most often occured with complex works in the eras that followed, most certainly place it within the Second Era. Add to that the style of the symbols, the Second Era saw the first use of the slant to denote importance in--"

"Okay I get it!" Laruna snapped. "You have way too much useless knowledge. Typical when all you're good at is studying."

Jynn frowned, but held his tongue. He had long before grown accustomed to his relative weakness where raw magical power was concerned and had learned to compensate for that weakness with skill. That skill, sadly, did not so easily translate itself to usefulness in the field of battle, as he had learned to his slight embarrassment during their first engagement. It was rude of her to keep bringing up his learning curve when he was doing all that he was able to do in order to compensate for his deficiencies.

"What's it mean then," she asked in a dignified tone. "If you're so smart?"

"I have not translated it," he said, knowing perfectly well that he was being maddening as well as petty. "I am afraid I lack the resources for a full translation. I do not have a compendium of runic at my fingertips any longer, and my access to the Library of Whispers has most likely been revoked by this point."

Laruna looked at him in triumph and said

"Well Kaitha and I were both able to determine most of what it said, since you obviously can't manage it without your precious books and libraries. A real hero knows all about how to read ancient runes in order to make it through dungeons more easily."

"Then congratulations to you both," he said, pitching his voice to sound pleased, knowing it would irritate her. "See what advantages that teamwork gets us all? I am sure Lady Kaitha's knowledge and vast experience with the languages written on the ruins she's likely explored were of enormous assistance to you."

The implication being that Laruna was not the one who had been able to translate it, also, that she lacked the ability and/or knowledge necessary to do so. She clearly caught his implication, for little sparks of flame started to rise up around her like fireflies and she glared hotly at him. Jynn kept hold of his polite mask and said in only the kindest of tones

"Congratulations on your translation, Master Trullon, and good evening."

She stomped off in a huff, fires all around the camp flaring up.

"Hey! Watch the wax!" Heraldin shouted irritatedly from his nightly board game with Gaist. "I need that candle for my work."

"Oh, like you do any work!" she snapped, closing the flap of her tent with unnecessary vigor.

"Honestly Jynn, what did you say to her now?" Kaitha called over.

He could hear the eye-roll in her voice.

"He's been doing the over-polite thing he does to get her riled up," Heraldin reported in a tone of lazy amusement. "He knows you were the one who translated that scroll and now Laruna's in a snit over it."

"Now now, Master Strummonds," Jynn chided him lightly. "Master Trullon does as much work as any of us, but Lady Kaitha deserves her share of the credit as it is due to her."

"Oh don't pretend you're not doing any of that just to get under her skin," Kaitha scolded, correctly as it happened.

"I'm sure he'd like to get under her--" he started suggestively before Jynn cut him off.

"That'll _do_ , Master Strummonds," Jynn used his most Forbidding Professor voice, and pulled a trick with the shadows that momentarily made him seem to loom large and imposing.

It was a trick he often pulled to cow cocky young students into submission, just to remind him that they might be from powerful fmilies, but _he_ was the authority in the classroom. The air turned cold and the shadows stretched, his face loomed taller and more imposing lit from underneath by eldritch flames, his voice became a rumble of thunder and even Heraldin momentarily shrank back in alarm. The spell passed and the night returned to normal.

"Yikes, no wonder you can't get a lady-friend, my friend," Heraldin smirked, but an edge of unease hung about his eyes. "Pull that on them a time or two they'd probably run the other way, unless you like the sort who's into _that_ sort of thing. A little of that forbidden Naughty Student and Correcting Professor action?"

"Ugh," Jynn made a disgusted noise.

That man was never going to change. Jynn finished up his turn at the dishes without any further theatrics and tested the air with his magic, doing his Listening trick to locate their fearless leader. The moment of truth was approaching. Jynn had given himself three days to think of an alternate solution to the problem, but he had been unable to do so, so his only choice was a terrifying bout of honesty. It was either that, or risk the entire group's combined goal out of pure selfishness, and Jynn fully admitted to being selfish, but he was not willing to go that far anymore. Mostly because it would probably prove useless in the end.

"...haven't heard anything for the last several nights," the deep gravely voice of the mysterious Thane said as Jynn pulled on a thread of air magic and allowed the sound of their distant conversation to travel to him.

It was the same sort of acoustic trick that allowed sound to travel so well and clearly over a flat surface of water.

"Well, keep sharp lad," Gorm said. "We've too many enemies as it is."

"I still think that I should throw a rock," the voice of Gorm's friend, whom anyone had yet to meet said in an insistent tone.

"Well, lad, yer the one who claims to want to remain hidden, if you make that your signal you can put paid to any hope of secrecy."

"Oh... well what if I cawed like a duck?"

Jynn hurriedly both covered his ears and cut his thread of amplification magic as a horrendous noise shattered the relative stillness of the night.

The camp roused at once, everyone calling over to see if Gorm was alright or needed help. Gorm quickly called back a cover-up about having stumbled over a small beast on his way to take a piss. Jynn waited until Gorm's conference with his hidden agent was over with and then met the dwarf on his way back.

"If I may, Master Ingerson," Jynn approached the Dwarf with polite respect.

He used the same tone with Gorm that he might have used with a colleague of slighter seniority at the University, whose influence might one day come in handy. Jynn wasn't a toady, but he always had his eye out for a useful alliance. In the cut-throat politics of the upper echelons of the Academy it was always wise to have an eye out for a useful alliance, especially if one wished to advance at a ripe young age.

"What is it ye want, lad?" the gruff berzerker, once known as a legendary hero named Pyrebeard, said to him.

"A word in private," Jynn said firmly.

The dwarf frowned a bit, but honestly Jynn couldn't have said whether that was out of desire not to speak with a Noctomancer in private or if it was just his default position. Jynn braced himself. He really had not much desired to let this particular secret go either, but if one was in for a copper, one was in for a giltin it seemed.

"Wot ye want then?" the Pyebeard asked him after Jynn had led him out to the edge of camp.

He hesitated, still not entirely ready, or certain that what he was about to do was entirely wise. The dwarf he faced was direct and honest to a fault. And he was very very good at making people very very dead.

"I asked for a word in _private_ ," Jynn said clearly, enunciating precisely, trying to keep a tremor of nerves from out of his throat. "I don't appreciate being led over to where Master Thane can listen in."

He had the amusing sight of seeing the leader of the party thoroughly flummoxed so Jynn pressed on.

"Yes, I know about him. I know that you meet and take council with him, I know he's been following us for some time, I know that he wishes his presence to remain anonymous, so I, as you, have respected that. After all, I too know what it feels like to have a painful secret shared with people you don't want knowing it. As to how I know about Master Thane's unofficial place in our party... that brings me to my next point. Rather, a confession I suppose you might call it."

The dwarf eyed him with justifiable suspicion. Jynn had not exactly been forthcoming about his connection with the Ashen Tower and it's master, in fact, he'd done all in his power to hide said connection. Privately, he felt rather justified in his reticence. Their rag-tag band of heroes had accepted that his lineage was a fact that he could do nothing about, but certain members of it still held it against him. He couldn't help feeling that everyone privately viewed him with suspicion because of it. He'd always _known_ that he'd never be accepted if anyone knew who he really was. The team might tolerate him because he was occasionally useful, but he knew very well they didn't truly accept him.

No-one ever could.

"Go on then," the dwarf prompted him when the silence had stretched out a little long.

"You may now likely be wondering precisely how it is that I had gained the knowledge of Master Thane's presence," Jynn continued, carefully minding his words so that his old stutter did not rear its ugly head again as it sometimes still did when he was nervous. "That is a simple matter of bending the acoustics of the air so that sound travels differently. Er, have you ever stood on the bank of a lake or a quiet river and been able to speak to someone any feet away as though they stood right next to you? Same trick, basically. I've studied and am practiced in most, if not all of the schools within my particular side of magic, and among them is Air Magic."

Jynn caught himself before he could begin a tangent on his particular love of acoustic manipulation, likely his present audience would not much care to learn of it.

"As to why I would bother spying on the leader of my own party," Jynn swallowed, took a deep breath and, bracing himself said

"The reason would be... because I am a spy."


	2. Chapter 2

The dwarf stared at him for a long, terrible moment in consternation. To Jynn it felt a lot like him having placed his neck out on the chopping block and waiting to see if the executioner was going to swing his axe. Jynn hastened to add.

"Well, I suppose, _ex_ -spy, now."

Gorm was still ominously silent so the wizard went on to explain.

"Niln, may he rest in peace, recruited me against my will. You know this. What you are all likely _not_ aware of is that I was approached after my unwilling recruitment by a member of the High Council of Archmages."

They're the one who decide who gets to be an arch-mage and who don't," Gorm nodded, clearly knowing at least a _little_ bit about the power-structure among the ranks of university-trained magicians, probably from his time as Pyrebeard.

Perhaps life as a celebrity had once come with its own built-in share of politics.

"Arch-mage Lykaelon," Jynn supplied the name agreeably. "He is a very well respected and powerful man. A mage of good-standing and greater influence within the University, and he approached me and offered to me the thing I covet the most in the world on a silver platter if I would send back regular reports about our progress and anything interesting I happened to pick up along the way."

Jynn half expected to be cut down then and there, Gorm was beginning to turn quite red.

"It _did_ seem a bit suspicious to me at the time, I admit," he admitted, not bothering to hide that he'd went along with it mostly because he was particularly invested in the success of the mission beyond the hope that he'd live through it, and maybe have a chance at the seat on the Council he desired. "It was unexpected that one of the leading arch-mages on the Council would offer my appointment to arch-mage, all but handed to me, and for for nothing more than a bit of trivial information."

Elevation to Arch-mage within the ranks of the Art Magickal was not at _all_ a small thing. One could have all of the power and all of the knowledge in the world and still be relegated only to the upper ranks of Master. Arch-Mage required not only magical acumen and skill, but _political_ clout as well. Getting enough of the Arch-Mages on the High Council to accede to your presence among their number required not only proving your worth as far as readiness for the ascension, but presenting yourself in such a way that you would not pose a threat to the delicate balance of power among their ranks. This didn't even include getting enough voices on the council to approve your candidacy for the Ordeal. Not to speak of _passing_ said Ordeal. Jynn had been working quietly for the last four years (previous to Niln having strong armed him into this Heroes of Destiny nonsense) collecting political influence. He'd carefully garnered favors in certain corners, found ways to get the right people to speak for him, and when he hadn't been instructing his students, he'd spent much of his time politicking by attending the right parties and salons. All of this done, naturally with the intention of presenting himself in the perfect image for an Arch-Mage candidate, one who was above reproach and a natural fit for the Council despite his lack of innate power.

_:All for nothing, clearly,:_ he thought, still upset at the unfairness of it all.

He'd been _close_ , so very _close_.

"I had anticipated a much grander and more difficult campaign for my seat, one set against the many who would oppose a mage of my lesser raw magical power being elevated to a position of exalted rank, you see," he explained. "It did make me wonder what it was about this venture that the High Council of Mages would find so vital they'd waste one of the few Subtle agents that are currently licensed on infiltrating a nameless adventure of no real note side of the ridiculous Heroes of Destiny folderol."

"The high-up muckety-mucks in yer own lot sent you to spy on us?" Gorm demanded, sounding incredulous.

It was clear from the way he was looking at Jynn, and thinking over his admission, that he found the idea of the scholarly wizard who spent most of his time with his eyes firmly glued between the pages of a book to be quite laughable.

"What you should also know about me is that this is definitely not the first time I've done this," he said, willing his tone to keep itself perfectly even, even conversational, as he continued. "A good deal of the reason _why_ I was able to advance my position into the upper echelons of power in the Magical University at all was due to the use that the Mages Council liked to put my particular skills to."

Jynn paused, growing discomforted as he always did when he went to discuss his real skills and training in the Noctomantic Arts. It was not something that the Council wanted known or spoken of, _particularly_ with those outside the magical community, and he was bending several of his oaths to the High Council by speaking on the matter to Gorm. He could get away with it because Gorm was _technically_ his superior for the length of their mission in the absence of Niln.

"I know you've seen me use offensive magics, shields and Death Magic in battle yes?" Jynn asked, more or less rhetorically. "This is not truly the area of magic I excel in. My area of expertise in Noctomancy occupies a place that is..."

Jynn debated the best term to use for it.

"Somewhat controversial."

"You're a necromancer?" Gorm said making a distasteful, though understandable, assumption based on Jynn's use of death-magics _and_ his parentage.

"No! Not at all," Jynn said, feeling a trifle offended despite the fact that it was understandable. "I practice some limited amount of Death Magic, though it is not my primary study. I'm not certain how aware you are of how things are done in the University of Magic, but I'll need to backtrack a bit for a fuller explanation."

"Go on," Gorm huffed a bit impatiently.

"One enters as an Apprentice-Noviciate and takes classes in the basics of magic, mastering their power and learning of the warp and the weft," Jynn explained.

He didn't bother to point out that Laruna, until recently hadn't even climbed past apprentice noviciate for the sole requirement for elevation up to the next rung was the ability weave with magic.

"After the first year or so when the young mage's area of specialty becomes clearer, they pass to Apprentice-Practicum and are sorted into their respective Colleges. Many young Apprentices choose to specialize in elemental magics, as Laruna Trullon does, others show an aptitude for Alchemy or Healing, some have several potential areas of strength. _Then_ there are some apprentices meet certain requirements, and are tapped to be apprenticed in magical arts that the University considers to be something of a necessary evil. As an Apprentice-Noviciate, my advanced ability to weave magic with subtlety and skill, as well as the fact that I had had no known ties or relatives, had marked me out as an _ideal_ candidate for the High Council to train me in a strictly controlled and highly controversial area of magic that is called Subtle Magic."

Even though he was pardonably proud of his skill in this rare art, he still was not very comfortable admitting to his ability with such a dark grey area of magic out loud. The dwarf, unsurprisingly, looked blankly back at him.

"Ah. You have never heard of it, have you?" Jynn said, trying not to betray his discomfort. "I suppose that's not terribly surprising. The Order of the Moon rather does go out of its way to keep that particular skilset of our side of the Balance under the roses, so to speak. Subtle Magic is a sub-branch of Noctomancy off from Shadow Magic, it deals with the, er, intricacies of the mind and with its perceptions."

Comprehension failed to clear Gorm's gaze, so Jynn further illuminated.

"A solamancer who is able to bend light to their will can, with enough practice, learn to cast impressive illusions to fool the senses... a Noctomancer can learn to do much the same thing in a different way. Subtle Magic fools the perceptions of the mind, or of memory, directly. It derails paths of thought or perception into what the Noctomancer _wishes_ that person to remember, to think or to perceive."

Gorm looked back at Jynn in disgust as the implications sunk in. He was talking about the ability for a mage to go into a person's mind and influence their thoughts or feelings or their memories. Most would call it a dark sorcery, and they wouldn't be entirely wrong. Jynn had seen the Subtle Arts used for good, to aid in cases of severe trauma or abuse, but he'd also hunted down Subtle Noctomancers who'd gone rogue... it was easy to do a _lot_ of damage with Subtlety.

One rogue Subtlemancer had amassed a small army of fanatically devoted followers by influencing their minds and altering memories to the point that he had become their god. They had not known who they were or how to do anything without permission from their Master... the Magical Council had been forced to wipe their minds in order to deprogram them because the damage was so extensive, those that were left, anyway. He and the rest of the Officials had been forced to kill the majority of the Dark Subtlemancer's army in order to get to their master, and they had all willingly died for him. It had been a tragedy that had haunted Jynn early on in his career, the hard neccessity of killing hundreds innocent people to apprehend one guilty person was part of the reason why he had retired from active service as a Subtlemancer at the first opportunity in order to teach at the University.

"You begin to understand I see," Jynn said. "The use and study of Subtle Magic is _officially_ forbidden by the Order of the Moon. That is, it is a forbidden branch for _most_ Noctomancers to study, even the knowledge of it is not mentioned openly in most textbooks, to discourage young mages from trying to use it when they're too young and stupid to know better. Upper level apprentices are told of its existence only, and then told the very strict, very _severe_ consequences for attempting to dabble in Subtle Magic without the express permission of the High Council. Expulsion from the university and the erasure of memory as well as a stint in The Maggots Nest are among the lesser punishments for infractions. There are almost no exceptions. That said, certain mages _are_ tapped to learn the Subtle Arts. These chosen few are trained rigorously, and once certified, thereafter their lives and actions are carefully monitored in order to be certain that they themselves do not wield any undue influence by using the Subtle Arts. Most often the Council uses them as agents to investigate crimes of dark magics, to interrogate witnesses on a Hunt, or on occasion to gather useful political information."

"Can ye read people's minds?" Gorm asked.

"No," Jynn reassured him, then honesty prompted him to add. "But that wouldn't be necessary anyway. I could simply "nudge" an unprotected person into trusting me enough to tell me what I wished to know when I questioned them, and then erase their memory of ever having told me anything afterwards."

The look of disgust on the Dwarf's face was harder to take than Jynn had anticipated. The fact that he was a spy and trained in the Subtle Arts had been a secret known only by a very select few. He'd been semi-retired, living a mostly quiet life as a university professor (until his little tiff with Apprentice Trullon had wound up getting him dragooned into the Heroes of Destiny). True, he'd sought elevation to arch-mage, but that in and of itself hadn't been viewed as any particular threat so long as he had kept his skill for Subtlety out of things. The Council had called on him every now and again to lend his skills in aid to the city guard with particularly difficult cases, but he'd had a handler on the Upper Council, who gave him his assignments when such had been required, but other than that his time as a spy and "diplomat" had been officially ceased. Then...there was his old teacher, whom he had honestly never thought he would need to have any contact with ever again.

"Have ye ever used it on me?" Gorm demanded next.

"No," Jynn replied readily, glad that he was able to say so with cmplete honesty, though he had been very sorely tempted to do so when Gorm had announced the expedition to the Ashen Tower. "Dwarves are... dense. And I mean that in a good way in this case. You all have a natural indifference to Subtle Magic, it just sort of slides off you like water off polished stone. If I were ever to even attempt to influence you, it would require a level of Subtle Magic that was so powerful that it could no longer be called Subtle."

"Are you still reporting back to yer old masters?" he demanded next.

Jynn shook his head.

"I have cut ties. Be warned however that in doing so, I've made some powerful enemies on the High Council. The same people who are already hunting you now have yet another ally to call upon. The Arch-Mages Council does not let go of its assets lightly, and it does not care for the level of independence I have shown in throwing in with you."

"Why?" Gorm asked sharply. "Ye could have left the party, used yer magic ta smooth yer way back tae yer nice, safe, comfortable world. Why stay? Why tell me this when ye know I'm not like ta take it well?"

Jynn paused, opened his mouth, hesitated, and then opened it again. He said

"Honestly. I'm not entirely certain myself."

Gorm raised an eyebrow, but remained silent, so Jynn thought for a long moment and decided it was best to reply honestly, though his reply was a bit more personal than he would have liked.

"I... The world knows me as Jynn Ur'Gored, High Councilor in the Circle of the Red Hawk, the youngest professor to teach magic at the University in three hundred years, and Arch-mage candidate," he said quietly. "I've spent most of my life running from my past. I've lived all of my days from the day I first escaped the Tower quietly terrified of what would happen if anyone ever found out who I _really_ am. I never dared to let anyone in close to me. Not one single person have I ever had in my whole, entire _life_ that I could ever truly call "friend." It may not seem like much, having a friend, but when you've watched from the outside while all of the rest of the lads your same age formed groups of friends and made wars and loved and fought but you've never once allowed yourself to join in for fear of the possibility of what you might let slip if you trusted too much or cared too deeply you would know that the trust it takes to form a friendship isn't nothing. Isolation is _awful_ , even when it's self-imposed. Especially when it's self-imposed. Exile is all the worse for having everything you could want at your fingertips, but not daring to reach out for it."

Gorm was quiet for a long moment.

"I know what isolation is like an' what it kin do to ye," he said. "I miss my home, I miss my family. It occurs to me that I've had a good run with both, but ye lad, I don't imagine growing up wi' that Detarr as yer close kin was all that fine an experience based on my short visit with him. Why didn't ye make friends with the other apprentices?"

"I was too scared," Jynn replied honestly. "They didn't much like me to begin with, mainly because I was weaker than they were but I continuously managed to outclass them in every category of academia. Worse than that, as far as they knew I had no magical bloodline to boast of, no Noble Family backing me and I still beat them, it was ignominious for them I'd imagine. I couldn't admit to having any magical pedigree, for obvious reasons, so they thought I was just a commoner with weak magic who still managed to outclass them. Most of the apprentices my age didn't take that very well, they hated me, and hated worse the fact that they couldn't get away with bullying me because I was already so far ahead of them. As you can guess from that, I certainly did not dare entrust my secret with any of my fellow apprentices."

"Surely you'd a trusted teacher?" Gorm said, clearly not able to imagine a life lived wherein there was _nobody_ he could trust.

"No," Jynn said. "I was certain they would have summarily thrown me out of University, if not actively tried to kill me, just because of what my father had done. I wanted to be accepted on my own merits, so I changed my name and never told anyone who I was. I never let anyone get close enough to me to even guess at my origins if I were ever to let anything slip by accident."

His simple explanation somehow did not feel like it encompassed all of it. He had watched with envious eyes as his fellow students had formed tightly knit groups of close friends. They'd shared lessons and confidences, discussing homework, and later on, romance. _They_ had had people they could trust to lean on and be open with. They'd laughed and pulled pranks (usually on him) and in general had had a good and fun experience with school. He'd had no-one. Growing up in a tower had made him see isolation as a way of life, but getting out in the world had opened his eyes to what he'd been missing, locked away in the Ashen Tower. It made it all the worse to know that the closeness and companionship that the other mages in the university had taken for granted could never belong to him. It was simply too dangerous.

"I assume, since you don't seem all that thrilled to be here," Gorm said directly. "That there must be a reason you've decided to tell me about your divided interests."

"Well, er... yes," Jynn said, still reluctant. "My translations of the materials we liberated from your little friend The Mask included a manifest, rather say sort of a wishlist, that the remainder of Project Leviathan, and one assumes their Royal Backers, would love to get hold of."

Gorm nodded slowly, signalling that Jynn had his attention.

"I'd noticed that you tend to concentrate the bulk of your attention on the Project, rather than going after Johan, the Royals of Andarun, the Heroes Guild and the banks that are funding everything, including the massacre of that village," Gorm said.

"In all honesty, completely outside of my personal stake in preventing the Project from picking up where it left off, I genuinely feel that Project Leviathan _is_ the greater threat," Jynn replied honestly. "The Arcane University has a saying: "kings come and go but power is forever." And they're not wrong. King Handor is, in the larger scheme of things, rather immaterial on his own. He has some power, but the banks, who control the giltin, likely have more. It was almost certainly they, acting through the Heroes Guild, that ordered that massacre on the Orcish Enclave in Bloodroot. Going after Johan and the Heroes Guild, or even the crown itself, is a worthy goal since they're abusing their power for their own gains but I don't feel it's the only goal we should be pursuing."

"None of what you've said makes it clear to me why ye think that Leviathan's a bigger threat than corrupt bunch of politicians and financiers that spans all of the Freedlands, and the rulers of an entire freed state declaring war on a population that hasn't harmed them and is trying to live in peace," Gorm said.

"I'm getting to that," Jynn said. "You must forgive me, I am an instructor at heart and so I tend to establish a base of knowledge before I expound upon it."

Gorm huffed again but signaled that he should get on with it.

"Project Leviathan is trying to discern how to access and manipulate Low Magic, which is the primal force of the Universe," Jynn said. "Even the most powerful of mages are still bound by the limitations of the Wheel, by attunement to warp or weft. Solamancy and Noctomancy and even Omnimancy have a balance of limitations and privileges granted that a mage, be he ever so powerful, cannot ignore. Low magic, if the ancient texts are to be believed, bypasses entirely any and _all_ limitations."

Gorm looked like he wasn't quite grasping what the big deal was, so Jynn tried again,

"It is power without end and without limitation," he explained carefully. "Imagine that power being placed in the hands of someone who already has been corrupted by what little earthly power they hold already. A king will rise or fall, and so will a powerful company, eventually. Low Magic does not suffer mortality as a limitation, which is yet another reason why those who seek its power are willing to stop at almost nothing to attain it. But I digress, all of this is merely the reasoning behind my view that the Leviathan Project is vastly the greater threat than one or two petty kings or influential merchant princes. That ilk can be brought down easily by a war of influence, slander and public perception. I have ascertained the likliest target of the sole remainder of the old Leviathan Project from the remains of the Mask's dossiers."

"Ye know where Detarr Ur'Mayan's goin' tae strike next, is what ye're sayin'," Gorm said.

"That is my belief anyway," Jynn qualified. "He can't get a chip off that statue he wants, if he could he'd have done so by now. The remainder of the items I've traced through sources arcane and mundane."

"What sources?" he demanded next.

"I know some people who know some people," Jynn said. "I've had to cash in most of my political currency as well as the nest=egg I'd had saved up, but I've managed to check off almost every on the list and make them disappear."

Gorm looked at him like he didn't believe him.

"Why go to all this trouble?" he asked, curiously. "I know you social-climber types hoard your influence like dragons hoard gold. Why spend it on something that doesn't benefit you?"

Jynn frowned, looking over at him.

"Don't misunderstand me, dwarf," he said seriously. "I am not an altruist. I acquired those objects of power because I know Detarr Ur'Mayan wants them, and I don't want him to have them. It's personal, you understand me?"

"Aye," Gorm said, finally seeing a reason that he could get behind.

"Which brings me to this..."

Jynn rolled out a scroll with a very peculiar object on it. It looked a little like a round eyeball made of many, multifaceted bits of crystal, sort of like the eye of an insect, all in different colors. Next to the depiction of the little metal and crystal eyeball was a building with a large dome over the top of it that had a map of the globe on the outside of it in a mural of gems and gold. It was enormous and beautiful. Gorm recognized it right away.

" _That_ thing?" he demanded. "That's a myth!"

The building with the world on it in gold and gems was the legendary Occullarrum, also called the Speculatium, also called the Observatory. It was supposedly an artifact from the ancient world, before the Fall, when the Gods had ruled and supposedly held vast treasure and enormous magical power in it.

"It is no myth," Jynn corrected him knowledgeably. "Or rather, it is a myth but only because certain Powers That Be, powers that control the accumulation and dissemination of all the knowledge in the world, would have it believed that it is nothing more than a myth. I speak, naturally, of the Library of Whispers in the University's Magisterum. The existence and location of the Observatory is but one piece of knowledge that the University keeps tightly under their control."

Before Gorm could recover Jynn proceeded.

"Now, the Occularum, is supposedly a vast artifact of great magical power, and incidentally, the last remaining place wherein the knowledge of the system known as Low Magic is stored. No-one, not even a full Circle of every High Councilor and Archmage in all of the Freed Lands, has been able to crack it's secret. They know where it is in a geograpical sense, but the secret of how to access it's power and information remains sealed. On a plaque outside of its entrance there is written in Runic of the First Era an inscription that reads "The Truth is in the Eye of the Beholder." Naturally there has been a very great deal of speculation over what that all means precisely. Everyone had thought that it was some sort of metaphor. As it turns out, it's less metaphorical and more practical. That!"

Jynn pointed triumphantly to the little antique toy eye from the First Era.

"Is the Eye of the Beholder. One requires that particular object in order to access the secrets of the Occularrum. It is a key of some sort, though I know not precisely what. The secret was cracked only recently, by the last remaining member of Project Leviathan, Detarr Ur'Mayan. Thankfully, he wrote that particular tidbit down and I happened to acquire it during our raid on the Tower."

"Happened to?" Gorm questioned, raising a bushy, skeptical eyebrow.

"You have your treasures, Master Ingerson, and I have mine," he held up a small grimoire bound in black leather with a noble house crest on it decorated with skulls. "But because we turned over all of the contents of the Ashen Tower to the Guild, the opposition has already discerned the information from other sources and they've sent an agent to the location of the last known Eye of the Beholder with a kings ransom in coin and promisory notes. If that agent is able to bid for it and wins, we lose. The agents sent by the Guild, the banks who backed the original Project Leviathan, and the Royals they're likely working in partnership with are not the only ones who know how to find the Eye... sadly for us, my f- er, um, Detarr Ur'Mayan wants it too. It appears that he's decided to ditch his erstwhile financial backers now that he has a sizable enough force of undead under his command and no longer needs their clout in acquiring artifacts for his own research. My guess would be that he's decided to acquire it without a monetary intermediary. It's a race to be the highest bidder. I strongly suggest that we take our merry crew of misfits southward and steal the eye before it can be sold to our enemies. Before Ur'Mayan can get hold of it."

"You sound like you know a lot about it. How is it you know this?" Gorm asked suspiciously.

"I have an old... _colleague_ , whom I had been forced to call upon in pursuit of certain artifacts on my list while the rest of the party was busy chasing down their own leads elsewhere. She is the one who had informed me of the Eye and it's location. I waited so long before bringing it up only because I wanted independent verification of her story... she's not exactly what anyone might call the most trustworthy person around."

"If a man who trusts no-one as a matter 'o course finds someone outright untrustworthy, why, by the Hammer of the First Smith, would we waste our time on following her lead? It seems like a bad business first to last."

"We can't afford not to," Jynn replied. "This is the best way to deal them a blow in a way they cannot ignore."

Gorm looked frankly skeptical and fingered his axe.

"I have easier way tae make them hurt, lad," he replied.

Jynn paused, marshalling his thoughts into order.

"We've been attacking them here and there, yes," he said. "But you have to have noticed by now that our little campaign has had little to no real effect on them, aside of them upping the bounty on all of our heads. Flattering as that is to be such a wanted man, it does _not_ further our ends. Johan and his ilk are as unassailable now as they were when we started this. You'll note also, that none of the pupeteers pulling the strings behind the scenes have so much as flinched. We have not drawn them out, much less made them hurt. Gorm Ingerson, you could ask our dear Thrones-playing comrades and they will tell you that a better thing to do than attacking an enemy is to attack his plans."

Gorm's gaze sharpened a little, clearly beginning to take interest.

"We know they want the knowledge sealed away inside the Occullarum, and the Eye of the Beholder is the only known way to get it. We should strike now while the Guild is still willing to play fair, and Detarr Ur'Mayan is as likely to fight with them as with anyone else."

"It's... something to consider," Gorm agreed, albeit cautiously.

He clearly saw what Jynn had been getting at. Detarr Ur'Mayan was acting independently and the Guild would likely be under some pressure to bring a rogue Necromancer down. If they met, say in contention over some ancient artifact, then it was likely they'd be distracted fighting each other, leaving the opportunity for a small ban of down-on-their-luck Heroes to slip through and make off with the prize.

"You do remember, however, that Ur'Mayan is still a liche," Gorm reminded him. "It's still a mite dangerous to go crossing one of those, especially when he's got forces of undead at his command. He's made it pretty clear that he won't be swayed by sentiment."

"Detarr Ur'Mayan was never swayed by sentiment," Jynn said flatly.

Gorm mulled it over a bit and finally said

Supposin', just _supposin_ ' mind ye, that I were tae have us all go after this artifact... where would we find it?"

"It is in the possession of a very powerful and influential Duke in the Southern Empire named Aster Casterion. He's a well known artifact collector and dabbles in the gentlemanly sport of hosting Duels at his estate."

"An' how do ye know he's got the artifact?"

"I have a close, personal contact high in the favor of his closest rival, the Duke of Arronge," Jynn replied as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

"What does knowing his rival have tae do with knowing he has this trinket everyone seems tae be after?" Gorm demanded, growing visibly frustrated.

Jynn paused again.

"Apologies," he said. "I had forgotten that you would not be familiar with the way politics are played out on stage in the Southern Empire. Allow me to explain. The Southern Empire is the last and oldest hold-out of the Empire of Man, their culture and architecture go back for millenia. Dynasties have risen and fallen. The empire has torn itself apart and mended itself back together in an endless waltz of war, peace and revolution stretching back for centuries. It is in the best interests of the Imperial Court in its current incarnation, to keep those in power in check and _not_ tearing the empire part by waging costly internecine struggles and civil wars amongst its nobility, so they have something they all call "the Grand Game." The ebb and flow of power in the Imperial Court is played out mostly in endless rounds of intrigue and one-upmanship centered around the fragile foundation that is gossip and reputation. A noble family with an unassailable reputation one week might find itself cast down to the depths of social ignominy the next week on so small a thing as having been found to--"

Gorm's eyes began to glaze over and he looked noticealy bored with Jynn's lecture on the intricasies of Imperial Court Politics so he cleared his throat as hurried on

"One of the favored power-plays among noble houses is to invite one's highest rivals over for a grand occasion of some sort and use it as a way to flaunt ones wealth and future opportunities. My contact was shown the artificat in question up close, and was able to identify it without doubt during its display, as Duke Casterion bragged of the fact that he had a whole host of barbaric northerners falling over themselves to throw money at him for the useless trinket."

"Alright, that tells us where we can find it, why not have your contact steal it?"

"She won't do it. The Duke of Casterion is too powerful to attack directly, much like all of our other enemies, but there is a way to gain what we want indiectly. We use Casterion's rivals."

Gorm frowned, clearly thinking that things were getting to intricate for his taste.

"Duke Casterion has recently attained several important posts for his own family members, more than the current Duke of Arronge, who is my associate's lover and patron. As a result, Casterion and his House has seen a significant increase in Royal Favor from the Emperor. In addition to this, Casterion's Duelist in the Masked Melee has been winning. A lot. In the eye of the public, Casterion is superior to Arronge which is not to be thought of."

"Politics," Gorm grunted distastefully.

"But useful politics," Jynn replied. "Casterion, realizing what an enormous prize he has, has just commissioned the building of the highest tech, state of the art, most impregnable uncrackable vault inside of his family crypt to hold his collection of money and rare artifacts."

"And you want us to go to the Southern Empire and walk in and take it?" Gorm said.

"That's not going to happen," Jynn forestalled him. "Casterion, besides being wealthy and politically influential is also in possession of an army to protect his interests, and his possessions. If we tried to hold him up and rob him we wouldn't get within line of sight before we were cut down. That vault by the way needs to be cracked before we crack it, and getting the components to do so will not come cheaply. I've already liquidated all of my own assets in order to acquire the other Objects of Power that the Leviathan Project wants, so I'm no good to you there. We need another way in. We need a backer. Someone wealthy, whose interests align with our own."

"It sound's tae me, as though ye already have someone in mind lad, out with it."

"The colleague I mentioned earlier who helped me to locate the Eye, among other treasures, is the Official Mistress to the Duke of Arronge as well as being the First Enchanter to the Imperial Court of the Southern Empire."

Jynn hesitated then pushed himself onward.

"She was once a highly-placed politician and well as an instructor in the Arcane University of Andarun. She was the Magisterum's pet spy and she was very good at what she did... _does_. When I knew her, she was a _master_ of gaining and keeping influence, of maintaining control over warring political factions, and of turning their energy toward _her_ own ends. Some years ago, the Freed Lands had used her to keep the interests, and _armies_ , of the Southern Empire down south where they belonged. Officially she was the Ambassador to the Imperial Court of the Southern Empire, unofficially, she'd been placed in the Imperial Court to spy for the Freed Lands. At the time, she had been a trusted member of every shadowy Inner Circle of any note within the Freed Lands... a Mistress of Shadows you could say. She was my teacher in the Subtle Arts."

Jynn's lips pressed tightly together, highly reluctant to speak of it still. He had not been able to bring himself to discuss the most pertinent bit of information, for it was still very painful for him to even think about how she had once very nearly taken him for a fool. As a young man, fresh out of the classroom, he had developed an admiration for his beautiful and capable instructor... an infatuation that she had encouraged. Taking advantage of his naivete, she had very nearly set him up to take the fall for her when she betrayed the Freedlands to take up a politically powerful position as Court Enchanter to the Imperial Court, and Official Mistress to the Duke of Arronge. He'd caught on to her scheme just in time to prevent her plot, warning his superiors just in time. Because she was clever, she'd managed to keep her position of Mistress to the Duke of Arronge, as well as her appointment to the Imperial Court as First Enchanter, but the Freedlands had cut her off as a traitor and she could never return to the north. It had been galling to him to have to seek out her aid in order to further his ends, but he'd swallowed the bitterness that lingered in him still when he thought of her, and he'd gotten the information he needed to find the Eye.

The number of people who knew of his relationship with the former so-called Ambassador De Winters to the Imperial Court of the Southern Empire could be counted on one hand with most of the fingers still left over. It had been a particularly tumultous time in his life, and he'd done his best to put it behind him. He was extremely reluctant to even talk about it, and it was only what he perceived to be direst need that had induced him to put himself in contact with her again. He had little doubt that she was surely selling the information of his contact with her to his own enemies. Anastacia was nothing of not adaptable.

"I get that feeling from that hesitant look on yer face, that there's more to the tale lad. Ye may as well have it all out with at once," Gorm said with customary bluntness.

Jynn had _thought_ that he hadn't been letting his extreme reluctance to show, but clearly the sting of it made him flinch even now. Nonetheless, the dwarf was right, it was best to have it all over with all at once. He braced himself and began his account.

"When I was a young man, passed beyond my exams for Apprentice-Practicum and entering into what would in most guilds be considered the journeyman portion of my career, my Apprentice-Peregrinatus," he said. "I was offered a position as an aide to the Ambassador to the Imperial Court. I was more or less there to fetch papers and refill wine glasses, at least officially. In this case I was assigned to the position for more in-depth instruction by a master of the Subtle Arts, Anastacia De Winters. My apprenticeship to her included traveling with her to her appointment as Ambassador to the Imperial Court of the Southern Empire as her aide."

The Dwarf chuckled and said

"It's hard to imagine you willingly setting out from your library as the only thing you've done is complain about the lack of books since this journey started."

"I was not yet eighteen," Jynn offered defensively, as an explanation for his prior lack of sense about the comforts of home. "And I'd spent my entire childhood cooped up in the Ashen Tower and thereafter had spent most of my formative years in the cloistered environs of the hallowed halls of academia. I had wanted to see _more_ of the world, and one didn't get much more exotic a location than the Southern Empire. It was a very prestigious position. I was over the moon. Anastacia De Winters had been very near a legend in certain circles, and the chance to train under her, to receive personal tutelage from her, was a tremendous honor. To be offered an apprenticeship of such prestige when, so far as anyone knew, I was some nobody from the backwoods of Ruskan without two pennies to rub together and only my talent to recommend me, was an opportunity that even most Noble Houses would have paid a princess's ransom in bribes for. She was also very, very beautiful. I mean, most female Noctomancers tend toward the darkly seductive end of the spectrum anyway, but Anastacia was utterly captivating. So, of course I, er, developed an.... an infatuation with her."

Gorm looked at him with one large bushy eyebrow raised.

"Since you were teaching in Andarun when Niln found ye, an' she lives in the Empire, I assume something must have happened to end this infatuation."

"I mentioned that she was a master spy,"Jynn nodded. "As well as a confidante on every Inner Circle in the Freedlands. She was _also_ highly ambitious. Unbeknownst to the High Council that had sent her to spy for them in the Imperial Court, the Southern Empire had managed to turn her by offering her a permanent position as Court Enchanter and as the Official Mistress of one of the Empires wealthiest and most powerful dukes in the empire if she would be their double agent."

"Just Mistress?" he queried. "Not wife?"

"In the empire, most consider Mistress or Consort to be the more desirable position. Marriages among the nobility are for heirs, and to concentrate wealth and prestige. As they say, no-one marries for pleasure. An Official Consortship however, is all of the wealth and none of the nonsense."

Jynn shook his head a bit, having gotten sidetracked by an explanation as a way to avoid having to discuss the bitterness of his betrayal.  
  
"Anyway... as you can guess by now, if Anastacia de Winters was going to turn coat with grace, to be a double-agent and continue to be of use to the Empire in a spy capacity, then she needed someone to take the fall for her when she switched her allegiances. She needed someone she could accuse of passing along information supposedly behind her back, someone she could accuse of her crimes so that she remained trusted by the High Council in the Freedlands and able to feed relevant information to the Empire. A naive, sheltered, trusting, utterly infatuated fool right out of the academy would be a perfect candidate to take the fall for her betrayal."

Jynn really, really didn't want to go in to how badly it had hurt to discover that the woman he'd fallen in love with for the first time, the woman he shared nearly everything about him with, had played him for a fool. She had deftly strung him along with whispers of love and affection, seeming to offer everything his isolated, love-starved heart had ever wanted, all the while she'd been setting him up to make their superiors think that it had been he who had been the double agent and not she. Only his instincts for paranoia and suspicion, ingrained in him form a lifetime of looking over his shoulder and guarding his every word, had saved him from spending the remainder of his sad life in the Maggots Nest.

"She very nearly got me," Jynn admitted. "I was nearly blinded to her actions by my growing infatuation with her, an infatuation she had naturally encouraged until I had fancied the two of us very much in love. Of course she would have relied upon my emotions to cloud my judgement. Fortunately for me, they didn't, or at least, not enough to make me miss how certain pieces of information weren't adding up. Long story short, I alerted my superiors and the High Council cut her off, leaving her useless and ineffectual in the Imperial Court. She still retained her offered position, but she is an exile, and dependent upon the good will of her patrons to keep her place. Which is to our advantage."

"So what ye're trying to get at with all of this," Gorm Ingerson said "Is that you want to crack an uncrackable safe tucked away inside of a place that's impossible to get to--"

"Difficult, but not impossible," Jynn corrected him. "Not with the right connections."

"Alright, so very difficult to get to. Tell me, has the safe ever been cracked?"

"It's a Bastion, model Neverfail 3."

"Oh, three is it?" the Dwarf said. "An no-one's ever cracked one or two yet, and the third one supposedly is even worse. Better you give up on that lad. I've a cousins uncle who works for Bastion, there's no way ye're getting in one of those vaults. Not even if you turned yourself into a ghost and tried to float in. A fly can't fart in the lowest chamber of that vault without setting off some kind of alarm."

"I'm pleased you are familiar with it, Master Ingerson," Jynn said pleasantly. "And yes, I mean to get into that vault and get that Eye before Detarr Ur'Mayan can get to it. Our chances are better with the vault than with the liche and his army of undead."

"I would nae be sae sure o' that," Gorm argued. "An' if ye already have everything else he wants, why not just let him have the eye?"

"All the rest are immaterial," Jynn said. "Minor but useful additions to his collection that may or may not be useful to his research. The Occularrum is the key to his work, it's the absolute most important thing. We take that away from him and his work stalls. If nothing else, it buys us time enough to figure out a way to stop him, to stop them all."

He paused, then looked piercingly over at Gorm and added

"Every King, Queen and bank worthy of any note has their money in the search for the Observatory, according to that ledger. We take this, we deal a fell stroke to their plans as well. Since we cannot yet attack them directly, our only other option, and really the better option, is to attack the enemy's plans, rather than the enemy."

Gorm looked at him for a long, measuring moment. Jynn wasn't certain what he was seeking, or what he saw. He had just revealed himself to have a less than savory past and a great deal of personal motives that he was pursuing. He honestly wouldn't really have blamed the Dwarf if he'd dismissed the notion out of hand and continued with his own (rather fruitless) campaign at hitting random targets connected to his enemies.

"I'll be considerin' the notion lad," he said finally.

"Consider quickly," Jynn qualified. "If we are to have any hope of success in this, we must be in the Southern Empire before the preliminary finals for the Masked Melee. That means catching an airship across the desert, and finding a way to disguise our mysterious stoney friend Master Thane for the journey."

Gorm gave a small grunt of a laugh.

"You're a schemer," he said.

To Jynn's very great surprise, it did not sound like he was making it an insult. Jynn was further surprised when he offered an observation on top of that.

"Ye've spent yer whole life runnin' lad, how does it feel to be completely honest fer once?"

"Terrifying," Jynn said without thinking, then tried to catch himself.

Gorm laughed out loud.


End file.
